


burning, but never consumed

by varlovian



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Banter, Blackouts, Comfort, Crime Fighting, First Kiss, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Philosophy, Pre-Slash, Robot Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varlovian/pseuds/varlovian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein there are blackouts and makeouts—everything is just out, basically. Including Kennex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	burning, but never consumed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomlicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlicious/gifts).



> Alternate summary provided by Emma, to whom this is gifted: "Love is not consolation. It is light." - Friedrich Nietzsche

There was a far-off explosion and the world was plunged into darkness. The sharp lines and glistening steel of the warehouse vanished, replaced by exactly nothing. John’s senses struggled to find input, a brief flush of panic that was easily tempered by years of experience and training. Instead of focusing on what he could not sense, he focused on what he could. 

“Dorian,” he called into the still air around him. They’d been separated at the very beginning; that should have been warning enough.

The sudden press of a body leaning into his side took him by surprise. In the darkness, Kennex couldn’t have fought if he tried. He tensed, but if the hand that curled around his wrist wasn’t indication enough, the soft acknowledgement of his name— _“John”_ —in Dorian’s calm, even tone was. He felt the ball of concern in his abdomen release slowly, unwinding like yarn, until all that was left was a single thread—impossibly long, but manageable.

“Do they know where we are?” he heard himself say.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “No.”

Dorian’s hand tightened around his wrist. In any other circumstance, he’d have pulled away, but the support far outweighed his pride. The knowledge that someone else was there, by his side—on his side—made all the difference. It changed the game, and the strategies blooming to life in his head. They were together. 

It was an advantage.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” he grumbled.

Dorian made a sound, unmistakable in the quiet.

“Did you just _tut_ me?” John asked, incredulously.

When the reply came, it was decidedly amused, “Yes, I did. You’re—” he cut off abruptly.

John knew better than to ask why. There was only one thing that would stop Dorian from taking the piss out of him, and that was if John’s life was in danger. Which meant…

“They’re coming.”

The hand on his wrist flew to his elbow and Dorian pulled him forward, striding confidently—silently—in the dark. John kept his movements as controlled as possible, muting the urge to break away and walk on his own terms. It was an impulse, a stupid one, and it would get him killed. Dorian could see where he couldn’t. He had to trust him.

No sooner had he thought so, Dorian banked sharp to the right and in a single, fluid motion that John would have envied had he seen it, he turned on his heel and tucked them both into a small alcove. John went first, Dorian’s body a hard line at his back, synthetic muscles tight with anticipation.

John turned around. “What are you—?”

A hand covered his mouth. This time he didn’t hesitate to slap it away with force. He wasn’t playing anymore.

“They won’t find us here, not for some time,” Dorian told him, voice pitched low and soft. They were facing each other now, but their bodies were about a foot apart. Dorian’s hand fell to John’ shoulder, which he squeezed companionably. “I want this done just as much as you, John, but we need a plan of attack.”

John raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Dorian would see it.

“Let’s go with ‘attack’.”

Dorian’s amusement was clear in his voice when he replied, “I like that plan too. Still, we need to be smart with this.”

“How can I be smart?” John complained. “I can’t even see!”

“That’s not why you aren’t smart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said exasperatedly, but he was smiling. The snark was familiar territory for the both of them.

“Hold on,” Dorian murmured.

John frowned, wondering where he was going with this. He didn’t wait long.

The intricate lines on the side of Dorian’s face came alive, burning liquid blue in the darkness. It wasn’t a flash, it was a smolder, a slow light that neither blinded them nor gave away their position to the enemy; rather, it provided just enough light for John to see the sweeping angles of Dorian’s face, the barest hint of his eyes veiled in shadow. The light was a flicker, barely there.

It was everything.

“Better?” Dorian asked, a hint of cheek in the word.

“Congratulations,” John said dryly, rolling his eyes. “You’re a human torch.”

Dorian fell silent. The change was instantaneous. One moment, he was relaxed, held in Kennex’s space like he belonged there, the way partners ought to. The next, he was pulling back as much as possible in the small space they occupied. His eyes flickered down to his feet—no, to his _hands_ , John realised, following his gaze to the faint outline of Dorian’s palms, turned up between them. The elaborate maze of inner circuitry on the side of Dorian’s face flared brightly, the light thrumming up and down the neural pathways, ethereal in the dark.

 _Processing_ , he thought. _Processing what?_

When John lifted his head, Dorian was watching him. The look on his face was inscrutable in the dull light.

His eyes didn’t move away, not even for an instant; they were locked with John’s. He stepped forward, once. The act was measured, purposeful, heavy in its implications. John breathed, calm in spite of his confusion (that usually led to anger). It was important, somehow, that he remained calm. It was an imperative, a firing of synapses, a surge in his blood, pulsing down his spine. It was written into his bones.

_Remain calm._

They were close, close enough for Kennex to see the shift in his throat as he swallowed. If it were anyone else, John would think he was nervous.

“Human,” said Dorian, in the inch or so of space between them. John felt the ebb and flow of Dorian’s breath against his lips. “You said _human_.”

“Yeah, so?”

Dorian’s gaze was penetrating. “Did you mean it? Is that what you _really think?_ ”

The _‘of me’_ went unsaid; it echoed between them all the same, in the hollow spaces.

He knew exactly what would come of it if he told the truth and yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie. In that instant, he didn’t want to.

John nodded.

Dorian’s lips twitched and his eyes glowed not with synthetic light but raw, human emotion, and there was that word again. Human.

Dorian leaned in, quickly enough as to not second-guess either of them, but slow enough for John to protest. He kissed him, once, a fleeting press of warm lips together, the slightest tilt of his head allowing it to deepen. Kennex licked into his mouth for a second before he was gone and they prised gently apart. They watched each other breathlessly for a long moment.

“Human,” said Dorian.

It wasn’t a question, but John answered it. “Human.”

Dorian grinned, and the expression was full of amusement, full of _life_.

“Ready to get out of here?”

“What the hell do you think?”

**fin ******

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from the song "Wreak Havoc" by Angelspit:
> 
> I am beyond god, I am human;  
> I am the razor blade on the communion tray.  
> I am a freak in control, not a control freak;  
> I am the sheep that got away.  
> I am burning but never consumed, determined with nothing to lose.  
> I am who I am who I am who I am who am I?
> 
> As always, thanks for reading. Any kudos & comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
